Page 47 of Cook

My eyes roamed the porch, settling anywhere but on the utterly calm man sitting across from me. Ward spent most of his time away from the club at his mansion—as Angel described it—overlooking the ocean. He kept our tech shit in order, but I hadn’t spent enough time with the man to consider him a brother yet.

I stared at cracks in the concrete and stucco where chickweed was starting to crawl from the crevices. Another sign this place had been all but abandoned. With pursed lips, I nodded and faced him again.

“Yeah, man,” I said, as though he’d just made small talk. I reached over and plucked a weed, tossing it off the porch. “Don’t have to tell me twice. This house needs lots of TL and fucking C.”

I swiped my beer from the table and gulped, knowing good and well he wasn’t talking about my rundown house.

Ward laced his fingers, resting them on his flat gut and his elbows on the arms of the chair. “You gotta smell the coffee, Cook.”

“Oh, I smell it alright.” I took a gulp from my bottle. “Nuttier than a squirrel turd, right?”

I chuckled, but the man didn’t laugh. Did he not have a sense of fucking humor?

“Giving her structure will help.” The Warden seemed lost in thought.

Thoughts I needed to hear. Everyone in the MC knew the situation with Maddie, because we couldn’t hide shit from our brothers. But this... this just felt like grinding salt into a wound I never knew existed.

“Her experience,” he mused. “The trauma she must carry withher. She’s clearly anxious as fuck, and I just sat here through dinner—fucking fabulous, by the way—and watched the relief wash through your girl when you gave her simple orders. Eat. Go.”

The bottle on my lips and the cool fizz washing down my throat gave an excuse not to respond.

So he continued, “You saw how Belle leaned on me, no?”

“Yeah, but—”

“How she waited for me to start eating before she started?” He cocked a brow.

“I did, but you—”

“Nah.” Ward leaned forward, stabbing me with the intensity of his gaze. “You’re not listening.”

I clamped my trap shut.

“Let me tell you a bit about my Belle. She has ADHD. Couldn’t finish college. Barely finished high school. Holding down a job, no fucking way.”

Scowling at him, I said, “She seems well-enough adjusted.”

He gave a slow nod. “Order, structure, guidance. It’s what Belle needs to function.” The Warden waved a hand toward the front door. “It’s what your Maddie needs too.”

“Andyougave that to Belle? The order and structure?” I drained the last of my beer.

“I did.”

“Drill sergeant much?” I cocked a brow, but still couldn’t get a rise from the man.

Relief, however, washed through me as a tiny brotherly connection started to form. Perhaps we could be brothers after all. Easing into the conversation now, I asked, “How?”

“There are many people like our girls,” said the Warden, “and many like you and me.”

“Not sure I’m like you.” I traced the chair arms with my hands.

“If you say so.” His tone said otherwise. “Still. A person’s gender or occupation or location or past doesn’t really matter. Some just need another person to help them find themselves. It’s not for everyone, andit’s not easy.”

Leaning onto the table, I said, “I hear a but coming.”

Ward nodded. “But it’s natural, an instinctive tendency on both parts. Animals crave hierarchy. And look at the MC. We’re little more than a pack of wolves.”

I chuckled at the comparison, but he wasn’t wrong about the MC. “Being with a woman, though, that’s not MC business.”

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